


A Place Where My Name is Known

by TheColorBlue



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColorBlue/pseuds/TheColorBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon Petrikov has a life before the Mushroom War, has a dream about being an ice king, and then finally wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place Where My Name is Known

Simon Petrikov didn’t exactly grow up with magical girl anime; Betty had a fondness for the stuff though, and Simon started watching episodes of it in college, between studying to become a professor of archaeology, and a contemporary antiquarian, and also the rest of his pretty mundane life as an undergraduate. It might sound a little ridiculous, a guy at his age, but as far as entertainment went, he really liked the series. He liked the transformations, the stories about female heroines, and the reveal of secret past lives, romance, and royalty. 

Even some years later, while still in a relationship with Betty and when he was belatedly starting to get into the hobby of _fanfiction_ : at the ripe old age of thirty-three, Sailor Moon was one of the things he went back to. It wasn’t even really fanfiction in the traditional sense of the word, he’d just make up stories that sort of harkened back to the memory of girl named “Bunny" with double-bun hair-styles, and baker-boxers, and priestess-archers, and many others among the varieties of princess-soldiers. He wrote under the internet handle AntiqueAntiquarian. He posted dribbles of his writing on his ramblr-journals blog, and also photos of old art and historical antiquities, and also blogging type bits related to his favorite sitcoms. Betty was always very kind and supportive about his silly hobbies. She’d leave him sweet little comments on the blog, and then talk with him about all his varied and geeky interests because they were interesting to her too. 

It was lovely. 

\---

Ice King was pretty much the loneliest, pathetic old crazy-man that you could ever trip across in the land of Ooo, but half the time he couldn’t even remember that. You could either find him wallowing in his own tear-soaked misery, or prancing about in the confidence that he was the most interesting and attractive _silver fox_ of a king ever to grace this planet. It sort of varied, depending on the day, on even the time of day. 

Most of the time, he went around with the conviction that if he just collected enough princesses, than suddenly life would be perfect. He could imagine lining them up in their own personal cages, and talking to them for hours, or playing board games with them, or music; they’d always be there in their metal boxes for him to take out and put away, and he’d never be lonely. 

Sometimes, he’d lie around in his den and be happy just thinking of the neat categorizations, each princess placed according to unique and attractive characteristics. Sometimes, then, he’d remember little flashes of stories about princesses with uniquely attractive characteristics, each with their own distinct colors and symbols that…somehow just managed to escape his lucid thinking. It was so neatly organized and organizable though, he’d remember that, and then wring his hands. Those princesses had been so happy. They had been friends and saved each other from tragic things. Maybe he’d feel his eyes leaking tears, thinking about it… The tears of a lonely and tragic hero. Probably a foxy-sexy tragic hero. He’d sort of giggle at that intruding thought, while Gunter warked and poked at him with penguin-flaps, and then Ice King would have to shoo Gunter off. 

Writing Fionna and Cake fanfiction always helped him feel better. He’d roll around in the pages of loose-leaf paper and then maybe scribble down a few words, and then stare up at the ceiling of the ice cavern and dream.

\---

When Simon Petrikov woke up from the dream of being the loneliest, crazy old man in all of Ooo, it was to the sight of a floating teenage girl with long black hair, shouting things at a teenage boy like, “globdamn you Finn, you could be killing him!” while the boy warded her off with a sword and protestations. 

“Marceline, stop, it’s all cool—“ he was saying, while a—a _girl made of fire_ melted something into a gold puddle, cackling, “ _yess, melt in the white-hot flames of Mount Doom!_ ” 

A strange yellow dog was sitting next to him. It seemed to notice his bewildered stare, because the dog said, “Yeah, sorry about the dramatics; we’ve been watching that old documentary about the hobbits and the one ring, and I guess Flame Princess is just… getting too much into the spirit of things.” 

“Oh,” Simon said. 

“Yep,” the dog said. “We went questing for a couple years so that Flame Princess could build-up her magic-fire muscles; oh, and also to hunt up a spell that would keep you alive even when she’d done her good work on the crazy-crown. FP, she’s like… probably one of the most dangerous peeps you’ll ever meet, come to think of it… Ahahaha, good thing she’s Finn’s girlfriend, right? Marcie’s pretty nuts with worry I guess, but FP has this under control.”

Simon stared at the dog. “Marcie?” he repeated. He looked around. “Where’s Marceline?” 

The floating girl looked over at him back. She was kind of crying. She looked…so much like Marceline, and weirdly, Simon felt himself choke up a little. Marceline was seven-years-old. This girl looked so much like Marceline…

“Huh.” Simon clumsily brought his knuckles to push up his glasses, but all he ended up doing was bumping his nose where his glasses should have usually been. He put his hand down. “Guess I’m still dreaming,” he said. Even though he knew he wasn’t. “Or dead. Hello, floating girl—or vampire, hey, you’re a vampire. That’s weird.” 

The girl rubbed at her face with the back of her hands, “Oh glob, you’re the weird one Simon—“

Then she was hugging him. 

Simon patted her a little on the back, before slowly hugging her back. 

It felt really nice. 

He pressed his face into her shoulder, and found himself sniffling a little. 

Heaven above, it felt really nice. 

\---

After he was strong enough to leave the Candy Kingdom’s royal hospital ward, Marceline carried him up to one of the castle’s highest towers. They stood on the balcony and waved to Finn, Jake, Flame Princess, and the odd little penguin called Gunter far down below, and then Marceline pointed to a faraway range of blue mountains, all covered prettily in snow. “That’s the Ice Kingdom; your home really, if you ever want me to take you back.” 

Simon frowned at the lovely vista. “Huh. I’m pretty sure I’d basically die if you took me out to place like that, yeesh, all that cold.”

“Yeah,” Marceline said. “I wouldn’t disagree with that.” Then, “we’re probably going to have to keep Gunter around.” When Simon looked at her in a politely puzzled way, she went on: “Peebles is afraid that Gunter will try to destroy the Candy Kingdom again if you abandon her. Him. It. Whatever Gunter is. But like, my dad was saying that he thinks Gunter is basically the most evil being in this whole land, even eviler than Peppermint Butler—that’ a secret by the way, don’t tell anyone, I promised Peppermint Butler I’d keep things cool —but yeah. I mean, I don’t care. My dad’s pure chaotic evil, it’s not as bad you’d think—and I don’t even know how Flame Princess is aligned these days—but. I just don’t want anything around that could stress you out, you know?” 

“Are you even actually giving me a choice here, Marcie?” Simon asked, but not unkindly. 

“I could always dump Gunter on my dad in the Nightosphere,” Marceline mused.

“Don’t be cruel, young lady,” he said with a smile. “Of course I’m keeping dear Gunter. The penguin’s not so bad, really, just needs a firm hand. And I’ll stay with Gunter in this Candy Kingdom which is weirder than anything I could have ever dreamed up in the wild imaginations of my youth. Even with drugs.” He rested his elbows on the balcony, and his chin on his hands. 

“Are you sad, Simon?” Marceline asked.

“No, no, being a crazy Ice King was sad, I’m sure, this is nothing in comparison.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She sounded very much eighteen, then, and Simon tucked his arm around her shoulders. 

“Shouldn’t get so worked up over an old coot like me,” he told her. “I’ve lived my life. Several lifetimes, in fact. You should pick up a couple hardier chumps to hang out with too. That Bubblegum Princess seems pretty swank—“

“Simon.”

“Just throwing out suggestions, here.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks.” She turned a little then to hug him. “Love you, Simon.”

“Love you too, Marceline Queen.”

She looked out over the balcony. “Want me to carry you down now?”

Simon followed her gaze down. “Yeah, that’d be great. Have pity on a forty-eight-year-old, give or take several hundred years.” 

“Heh. All right.” 

She picked up him, easy as feathers, and the air carried with it the scent of sun-baked sugar as they floated back down to the earth.


End file.
